Like Mother, Like Son
by nursehelena
Summary: As if it couldn't get worse for Skwisgaar, when the families came to visit Mordhaus.


"What make you t'ink he am cheatings on you?"

"I don't know! I've never suspected it before. He's been so moody and reclusive, lately. . ." Rose heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry, Skwisgaar. I don't mean to bother you with it. This is something that's been clogging up my mind since I got here."

"You amn'ts bot'ering me. Really, ams fine." The Swede's arm extended a little further along the back of the limousine seat, behind Rose. He played clueless, but he knew damn well where Mrs. Explosion's suspicions originated. His mother chose to stroke and coo at Oscar Explosion rather than pay her son any mind at all, during her visit. A venture to calm his sour stomach sent Skwisgaar into his guitar, and sore fingers in turn compelled him to seek out the next best thing: a woman. And holy shit, was Rose Explosion ever a whole lot of _that_. Just his type, too. Already, as he laid his moves on, he could see where he'd grab or stick his dick between. She must be one hell of a titfuck. Why would Oscar pass _this_ up for his disgusting mother?

Women broke down for Skwisgaar over less—older ones especially loved gaining the attention of a younger man. His fame only weakened them further, even if his reputation preceded. He'd learned early on the nuances of female emotions and how drawing them out resulted in vulnerability. And what was more comforting than being treated like the only woman Skwisgaar Skwigelf ever cared about?

Colour rose into Rose's cheeks. "Thank you for driving me back to the hotel. You didn't need to."

"Ams my pleasure."

Now came the final test. When Rose slid out, Skwisgaar followed. If she said anything or expressed confusion, he'd back off. While he'd pursue others more relentlessly, some bastion of shame reminded him that he contributed to the unfaithful nature of his bandmate's parents. His mother started it, though.

"Skwisgaar. . ." Rose studied him at the hotel entrance. Now or never. "Would you like to come up?"

"Shore." A lighter tone suppressed what went unspoken. While he'd usually be warming his date up with further talk and a teasing touch, Skwisgaar slipped his hands into his pockets as they strolled across the lobby. Nothing should have distracted him, now. Normally, nothing _could_. But a flash of red out of the corner of his eye and a too-graceful leap behind a large plant caught his attention. One glance, and he bit back a groan.

"Rose." He lowered both his volume and tone. "Woulds you wait for me a moments? I needs to attend to somet'ing."

The woman tucked some hair behind her ear. "I'll be down here, by the elevators."

Out of her sight, Skwisgaar's casual nature transformed his footsteps into stomps. His mother attempted to creep away, but he came around the plant too quickly. Feet shoulder-width apart, he placed his hands on his hips. "What de hell ams you doing here?"

"Oh, Svisgaar, is you," she feigned surprise. "What ams _you_ doing here?"

"Cuts de crap, woman. I know you nevers in a hotel just because."

"Ams _you?_" Attempt at innocence failed, Serveta returned to her usual coldness. Even in heels, she only stood to her son's nose. "I sees you here with Rose Explosion. I amn't stupids, Svisgaar. If I were yous, I wouldn'ts go up to her room."

"Why nots—?" Ugh, of course. "Ams Oscar dere?"

"So go find someone else, or tries again later."

"I amn'ts taking no sex advice from _you!_" Skwisgaar snapped. Still, she was right. Fuck. "Just leaves me alone. I figures it out myself."

Leaving his mother to sneak off, Skwisgaar gathered him composure. So what did he do? He certainly couldn't go upstairs, and he couldn't tell Mrs. Explosion the truth (even a version excluding his mother) without having to offer an explanation.

"Rose." He caught up to her. "I gots—"

"Look, you're a pleasant young man, Skwisgaar," she cut him off, nerves having taken claim. So it went, if the Swede left his dates to their own device too long. "But I don't think I can do this."

That made it easy. A smile pulled Skwisgaar's lips as he rested a hand on her shoulder. "Regardless, de t'ing I say am true. Oscar ams lucky to haves you. You make shore he appreskate dat, okays?"

Any remainder of a good mood crumbled when Skwisgaar slid back into the limousine to find his mother seated there, compact out to fix her makeup. They jerked into motion and, soon, the hotel disappeared from their sight. Skwisgaar slouched down with crossed arms and a sullen frown. "I really hates you."

Serveta pressed her freshly reddened lips together. "Loves you too, my sweet boy."


End file.
